


games can only be won on the board

by the_six_fingered_villain



Category: The Queen's Gambit (TV)
Genre: adding a touch of DRAMA, and yet here we are..., life after chess, pondering plot, the series is perfect and needs no addition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:27:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27578485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_six_fingered_villain/pseuds/the_six_fingered_villain
Summary: It's been several years since the end of the series when the very public defection of Vasily Borgov from the Soviet Union rocks more than just the chess world...
Comments: 22
Kudos: 119





	1. Chapter 1

She curled the cord between her fingers. "Are you going to see him?" Jolene asked on the other end of the line. 

"I don't know," Beth muttered, staring up at her ceiling. Dust sat heavy on the light fixture and she tried to remember, once again, to clean it... later. "I mean, I'm pretty sure he'll be at the tournament in November." She paused, chewing on her lip for a second. "Besides, I don't think they'll even let me see him?"

Jolene scoffed, no doubt sensing the self-defeating reluctance in Beth's words. "He left Russia to get *out* of a cage- I mean, that's what he's been telling all the reporters. I'm sure he's allowed to see friends."

"We're not friends," Beth quickly interjected. "I mean, I've only exchanged a handful of words with the guy..."

"The way you keep talking about him I've got to wonder, girl." A blush caught Beth at that and she was thankful Jolene was not present to see it. "Anyway, has got to be lonely, you know? I was thinking about that, how lonely it probably is for him and his son..." Beth bit her lip, the twist in her friend's voice distracting her from the topic of Borgov. Jolene had moved to D.C. two years ago for work and was still struggling to settle in there.

"I'm- I'm sure they have other, you know... defectors for him to hang out with. Speaking of which- there's a tournament in Virginia at the end of next month I was sort of considering," she hadn't really, up until that moment, but continued with, "I could drive up again-" her offer to visit so soon on the heels of her last trip was met with stern guidance not to.

"I appreciate the thought, really do," Jolene ended with. "But I need to get myself out there on my own and start meeting folks here." The cord twisted and sprang back to shape as Beth continued to fidget with it, pained to hear the unhappiness in her friend's voice but unable to do anything about it. "Speaking of which, I have  _ plans _ tonight so I better get going." It took another five minutes for the call to wind down, various promises of good intentions and well wishes exchanged before Beth dropped the phone back onto its cradle and the house fell silent. 

She looked around the room, gaze sliding over dishes left sitting about that she'd every intention of dealing with... soon. Jolene's words echoed in the empty house, in her mind, as she wandered over to the desk in the other room with its pile of letters.

Her hands weren't shaking- yet- as Beth fumbled through the stack, not even sure what she was looking for amongst the many variations of her name and home address. Something simple, something written in crayon... she fumbled with the letter opener, jabbing it into an envelope and slicing the thing open so carelessly that she half tore the single sheet of fan mail within. Pulling out her notepad, she hurriedly scanned the thing- this one a letter from an 8 year old girl in Colorado- before she began scribbling out a reply. 

Forcing her thoughts to slow to down, throttling them to the speed of her handwriting helped. Jolene's unhappiness and her own lurked in the back of her mind but this act- replying to one of the many kids who wrote to her helped. Helped her feel useful, focused. It was often weeks, sometimes even months, between tournaments but the letters were constant and one of the few things she could turn to these days for stability. The nub of a pencil she worked with couldn't fully satisfy all the cravings her abandonment of smoking left her with, but it helped. 

She'd selected a second letter to reply to when she looked up, pencil tapping against her lip in thought. The child had asked when the last time she'd been scared was and Beth let her mind wander back to Moscow, several years earlier. As her attention drifted, so did her gaze. The row of tournament trophies atop the piano glinted in the afternoon light, each one conjuring up a name- or several- as her gaze slid past them. Watts. Borgov. Borgov.

Looking to the coffee table, she stared at the magazine laying there that screamed the same. The man was everywhere now and without a chess piece in sight. It was disconcerting. As if summoned by her thoughts, the footage again appeared wordlessly on the TV. Beth had taken to keeping the thing on, silent for the most part, during all hours of the day. She increasingly found the empty, still house oppressive but the thought of owning and caring for a pet far too daunting. The constant dance of life upon the tiny screen was the tolerable in between she'd settled on. It was times like this however that she questioned the decision as she found she couldn't look away.

It was the same old footage, no new shots or information accompanying it but that didn't stop them from airing it once again. It'd been dramatic. There'd been a Parisian car chase as the agents taking him into custody had barely evaded his KGB handlers. Photographs of cars slamming into street vendor carts had captured the public's fevered attention but it was the footage of Borgov clutching his blood soaked son to his chest that they liked showing most in the news hour programs. It'd been a week but they still frequently aired it as they provided a hungry public with updates on the situation. As usual Mrs Borgov had been cropped from the footage.

Jolene's words came back to her as she watched silent reporters converse about something before turning to the camera. A moment later the footage cut to a close up of Borgov speaking and Beth started up from her seat at the desk. Hurrying over, she switched the volume on only to be met with the feminine voice of some translator- the original Russian in no way audible. 

It was a familiar song and dance- she'd been handed similar prompts by government agents after notable wins- with a healthy addition of gratitude to the great nation of America for helping him escape. It was strange to imagine him actually  _ saying _ such things and her attempts to lip read were tripped up listening to his so called words. At some point the camera pulled back to show the younger Borgov standing stoically by his father's side, arm cradled in a sling. Beth settled herself down before the TV, nose nearly pressed to the screen, as she studied the small blurry eyes of both before the feed cut back to the reporters.

Flipping the audio off again, Beth stood up and gazed down at the TV in thought. She'd  _ assumed _ he'd be at the November tournament but she felt the worm of worry gnawing at her. The man had just lost his wife, his home, and whatever shreds of a 'normal' life he'd managed to cling to during his many years as a Grandmaster treasured by the State. Playing chess was likely one of the last things on his mind at the moment. But somehow it was difficult to believe.

Tapping the pencil to her lip in thought, Beth stood there in silence contemplating for a long moment before turning to her desk with an air of determination. Sweeping the envelope to the side, she pulled out her address book and flipped through it's pages. An atlas was pulled out and checked before she wandered back into the kitchen. She used the pencil stub to dial quickly, chewing her lip before she lost her nerve. 

"Hello?" It was a woman's voice who answered the phone. "Adele speaking." The initial shock was brief and as it receded, Beth found herself smiling. 

"Hi, is Harry there? It's Beth," she explained, on the verge of saying more when the excited voice on the other side jumped in.

"Beth? Beth Harmon?" There was a laugh and the sound was muffled for a moment before the woman continued. "Hi! I've heard so much about you!" A nervous laugh was all Beth could offer in reply to that and she was thankful when she heard a familiar voice in the background. "Are you in town? I would love- oh, here he is."

"Hi Beth," the familiar voice of Harry breathed into the receiver once it'd been handed over. There was the familiar note of awe there, reverence, but also caution. "How was Paris?" 

She snorted, leaning against the kitchen wall. "Unsatisfying." A memory nipped at her and she smirked, coiling the phone's cord about her finger. "At the start it reminded me of our first game... I thought he was stalling to get back at me or something..." she shrugged, careless that the gesture didn't translate over the phone. "Longest 90 minutes of my life," she muttered. "But, I mean. I don't mind." 

This pulled a laugh from the man and she heard him repeat it to whoever was there with him. "How big of you," Harry eventually replied, voice warm with amusement. "I'm sure an opponent fleeing the country to avoid losing to you was an ego boost you did not need."

"I'm trying not to take it personally," she replied, unable to resist smiling at that. Harry might not know as much about chess as she did, but he did at least know  _ her _ quite well. "Speaking of  _ ego boosts _ ... who was that? Are you staying with another  _ student _ ?" she teased. There was embarrassed laughter and Harry went on to introduce Adele, a fellow graduate student. It'd been a while since they'd last caught up and she listened with a smile as Harry ran through how things had been going at the University. It was nice to hear from a friend who was doing well and though she continued to toy with the cord of her phone, it lacked the frantic fidgeting her earlier call had. Any news worth sharing in regards to her life was already known- her chess career continued to be well covered and recent events had caught her at the edges of the public spotlight. While she'd not graced any covers, few articles on the Borgov situation were complete without a token quote from the one he'd lost to.

It didn't take long for the conversation to turn back to chess though, as always. Harry shared he had been teaching Adele the game and Beth rolled her eyes at that but said something encouraging before adding "Don't you miss playing against someone more  _ challenging _ though?" in a leading voice.

"I- I do miss playing against you," Harry offered tentatively, a sudden note of warriness creeping into his voice. "But Adele-"

"No no no, I mean," Beth hurried to interrupt, worried he was drawing the wrong conclusion. "I just mean- you're the only reasonable player I know in Chicago." Larson lived in Chicago, she was pretty sure, but the man was an ass.

Harry have a nervous laugh. "Until last week- are you- Beth, is this about Borgov?" He sighed heavily into the receiver and she winced, sensing she'd misjudged something. "Of course this is about Borgov."

"I'm worried about him," she confessed, brow furrowing. "I was wondering if you might... you know, check in on him?" She winced, knowing it was a rather bold ask.

"Jesus, Beth, the man just lost his wife... and I've never even played against him." There was a pause and Beth bit her lip. "He's at the InterContinental, I do know that." Her hopes were dashed however when he added, "but I don't know what you expect me to do- just... walk up to the hotel and call his room? Beth, I don't even speak Russian."

"But you've always been so good at reaching out," she said, tugging on the cord as her earlier worries began to surface again.

"Only for you, Beth, only for you," he muttered and she winced once more. 

"Come on, you're a nice guy," she stated. "Even if you don't go to see Borgov," she hurried to clarify. "Forget I asked- it's just the news keeps talking about him and I thought-"

" _ You _ could visit him," Harry interjected, voice friendly once more. "Adele has been wanting to meet you-" There was a muffled voice in the background that presumably echoed the sentiment. "-she's keen to see me lose a game to someone. It's not that far of drive. I've told you before, you're welcome to come visit. The sofa, it's very nice." Beth tilted her head back and again found herself staring at the dusty light fixture. "It would be nice to see you again..."

"Yeah... I- I think I might do that."

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check yourself before you wreck yourself - it's a long chapter because I suck at pacing. There are breaks but we're all probably bingers here...

Unlike Beltik, Harmon was able to maintain her cool as they loitered in the hotel lobby. Not for the first time, she reminded him that he didn't need to be there. She'd initially thought his company would help her blend in, look less conspicuous as she casually circled the large room, but she'd forgotten how many tells he had.

Scratching at the back of his head yet again, he nervously glanced about the space. "And pass up the chance to meet _Vasily Borgov_?" He laughed. "Even if I just get to... shake his hand. I mean, you'll always be the best player I know, Beth," he hurried to assure her for some reason, "but I've been reading about Borgov my whole life." 

"He might not show up," she pointed out, guiding them around an empty couch they'd spent several minutes earlier sitting on. "I can just meet you at the University later, it's not that long of a walk."

"I'm not going to abandon you here, Elisabeth," he scolded, as he scanned the room. "And I wouldn't recommend walking by yourself that far- this town can be a bit rough, it's not like sleepy Kentucky." Beth rolled her eyes. 

"I know how to travel," she muttered, not bothering to enumerate all the cities she'd visited _alone_ over the years. Harry had never qualified for an international tournament and she didn't want to rub the fact in by highlighting just how many exoctic locals the game had taken her to. "And I'd hardly call this place _rough_ ," she joked, admiring the fashionable outfits worn by a pair of women lounging on a nearby lobby sofa. She owned a mini skirt that was just as short- having picked it up along with several other items on her recent trip to Paris- but she'd left them at home.

It’d been hard, but she’d left most of her fun dresses at home. She'd taken longer to select what to wear today than she spent deciding most her moves in a tournament. The simple sleeveless black and white dress she'd settled on had seemed sensible back home but now, running a hand over her hip as she nervously scanned the space, she wondered if it came across as too gloomy. It was easier to fret about how she looked than worry about what she'd say when- _if_ \- she ran into the man. She'd told Jolene the truth on the call that launched this mad plan. She'd only exchanged a handful of words with Vasily Borgov over the years... Which after four years of international play was rather surprising. It was only during her second year doing the global chess circuit that she'd begun to wonder if it was intentional. And only now that she worried it'd been his preference. 

There had always been dinners and those occasional cultural outings to experience the host city's quirky monuments or local relics. She'd grown accustomed to certain familiar faces, his amongst them but always viewed at a distance. Their eyes frequently met across long tables or in passing across the street and there would always be a slight nod, an acknowledgement but nothing more. 

Once in Bueno Aires she'd been so bold as to slide up to him at the bar after a day of play. She'd not been drinking then or even planning to but it was the only opportunity presented that she felt bold enough to take. He'd seen her coming, sat there watching her intently as she'd approached but before she'd been able to so much as say "hi" one of his KGB handlers had wandered in, whispered something in his ear, and the man had been whisked away.

She'd never really _met_ Borgov and the weight of the encounter hung over her head as she slowly paced around the lobby. "Are you sure you don't want the desk to just phone his room?" Harry asked, shoving his hands into pants pockets. "We've been here for twenty minutes- are you really just going to... wait till he walks by? Beth, I do have a paper due on Monday..." 

Pressing her lips together tightly, she avoided answering the question as she scanned the room once more. Again her eyes lingered on the hotel bar- how easy it would be to sit and watch from there... but she didn't want to risk it. "Like I said, I'm happy to meet you later. And I don't know, it just feels... too intrusive to just... call him."

Harry huffed and rolled his eyes. "Yes, and lying in wait in the lobby is so much-" 

"There he is!" Beth hissed, grip tightening on Harry's arm as she gave the man an excited shake. Beltik seemed rather surprised by this as Beth dragged them forward, guaranteeing that the Russian would cross their path. The man had emerged from the elevator, dressed as usual in an impeccable suite and she watched him adjust his cuffs as he glanced back over his shoulder at something. Her heart was in her throat and her feet still moving when he looked back around and their eyes met. If she hadn't been holding onto Harry's arm she wondered if she might have tripped and fallen. The recognition in his eyes was instantaneous and the faint twitch of a smile somewhat a surprise. Smiling tentatively in return, she approached with Harry in tow. 

It was he who spoke first, softly and in Russian, drawing down the attention of a bodyguard who drifted to his side. " _America_ ," he announced, " _is so large. I did not think I would cross paths with you so soon, Ms Harmon._ " He inclined his head in a near bow of acknowledgement. " _Though I will confess it is... a pleasant surprise to see a familiar face here._ " There were dark circles under his eyes and a sadness in the weak smile he offered her.

Grinning wildly in return, Beth continued to grip Harry's arm to calm her nerves. " _I ah- I'm in town visiting a friend,_ " she replied in stumbling Russian, flashing Harry a nervous smile which he automatically returned. " _I- the news papers mentioned you were here-_ " That wasn't true, Harry had actually heard it from a fellow grad student and the sharp look the bodyguard gave her made it clear the lie was known. " _I- I thought I would stop by. See how you're doing. I'm sorry for your loss,_ " she swallowed before hastily adding, " _of your wife_ " to make it clear the remark had not been referring to their play, which had been recorded officially as a forfeit.

The friendly smile faded slightly at that, the familiar cold mask he wore during their games settling across his features. There was another slight incline of the head as he wordlessly acknowledged this. She'd said something wrong already it seemed and nervously tucked her hair behind her ear as she hurried on.

" _I didn't think I'd actually run into you,_ " she confessed in a half truth. Her well thought out attacks were limited to the chessboard. Beth realized once again she'd not planned far enough ahead. Even the idea of dragging Harry along, the poor man now stuck smiling politely as he followed the conversation without comprehension, had been poorly conceived. " _I-_ " she stumbled. Something, she was supposed to say something tactful. She'd already offered condolences on the loss of his wife. Was she supposed to praise him for defecting? She should have voiced concern for his injured son. Instead, what came out was, " _you owe me a game._ "

She blushed of course the moment the words escaped. Borgov blinked in surprise at this before ducking his head, a hand coming up to cover his mouth. " _I- that is, I wanted to know if you were still playing. And, um, make sure you knew the US Open is in November._ " She winced again and weakly added, " _I'm happy to see you and your son have made it safely to America. I-_ " she glanced rapidly around the hotel lobby, the plush interior beautiful but the bodyguard standing several paces behind the Russian a stark reminder of the unfortunate nature of his situation. " _I hope it's been...?_ " The words 'worth it' dried up in her throat but thankfully Borgov nodded his head in apparent understanding.

When he lowered his hand his expression was serious but she noticed a faint creasing around his eyes. She suddenly wondered if he'd been concealing a smile as he clasped his hands behind his back. _"A game_ ," he echoed, thankfully overlooking her flailing. " _I... would be thankful for a game, yes. Will you be in town long?_ "

" _MMmmmm_ ," Beth hummed, glancing at Harry out of the corner of her eye. " _For a bit,_ " she replied evasively seeing as they'd not discussed the limits of Harry's hospitality. 

" _Tomorrow? Here at the hotel?_ " he offered and she blinked.

"Yes!" she exclaimed, then repeated herself in Russian, adding that she'd very much look forward to it.

" _Nothing official_ ," he hastily qualified. " _Just a game between..._ " his expression faltered at this and it was her turn to step in.

" _Of course- nothing official. A friendly match."_ The suggestion that their official matches had been unfriendly was not what she'd meant but she bit her lip rather than continue to babble. He picked a time and she remembered to circle back and introduce Harry by name. Borgov gave no indication he'd heard it before but shook the overjoyed younger man's hand firmly before excusing himself. Beth let out the breath she'd been holding when the lobby doors swung shut behind the Russian and she turned wide eyed to Harry. 

"Vasily Borgov," Beltik sighed in awe. "What did he say?" Shaking her head, Beth tried to drag him out of the lobby but her companion hissed and reached up to remove her hands from his bicep.

"Careful! I think you actually left a bruise," he complained, rubbing at his arm and wincing. Muttering an apology, Beth led them out of the hotel through a different exit than Borgov had taken, heading towards Harry's parked car.

"Well?!?" he pressed, sliding into the driver's seat while Beth stood for a moment, scanning the street. No Borgov or bodyguard in sight. When she climbed into the vehicle he repeated himself and she sighed. As he began to drive she told him. Unsurprisingly Harry twisted to give her a look of horror.

"'I'm sorry about your dead wife, _you owe me a game_?!'" Beltik repeated in a strangled voice. "Beth! That's cold, even for you."

" _I know!_ " she cried, scrubbing at her face as she slumped in the car seat. The city rolled past her window and she stared out at it. "I know! I just... didn't know what to say! What are you supposed to say to someone like that?"

"Didn't you think about that _before_ you ambushed him? Beth, it was an eight hour car trip to get here."

"I was replaying our games," she confessed and Harry snorted. The Borgov of her memory was a stern figure, a pair of hands and brooding features but mostly a series of moves. What she'd encountered in the lobby had been a man, normal and human and possibly a little broken. It didn't help that she'd never been good at small talk. "I don't even really know him," she muttered in a sullen voice. "What was I supposed to say?"

"I'm just surprised your plan worked." Beltik grinned as she stuck her tongue out at him. "I'm sure he appreciated the thought, and- and it's the thought that counts. Sometimes you just need to try." He glanced at her, wiry amusement mixing with sadness. "Trust me, I know." Beth flushed, turning away again as she recalled the times he'd been there for her- not all of them appreciated in the moment. "Sometimes the important part is just trying. Just showing up..."

She waited until they pulled into the University parking lot before she mentioned the game tomorrow. Harry of course exclaimed at that, sounding impressed. "An off the book match between Grandmasters Harmon and Borgov? Please record the moves and let me see," he begged, hands pressed together in mock supplication.

With a laugh she promised she would, falling into step beside her friend as he began to give her a tour of his campus. While the tournament circuit had certainly taken her to a number of universities, it was different to hear the personal commentary Harry rattled off as they passed various buildings. Not for the first time Beth wondered if she'd missed out on anything by skipping college. There'd been institutions that had reached out to her offering a range of scholarships but the temptation had never been there. Tucking her arm in Harry's as they went, she wondered now what it'd be like to have broadened her day to day life beyond Alma's house.

They ventured into one of the buildings, the impressive exterior revealing a less impressive interior crammed with numerous rooms and more loitering students than she was expecting. More than one curious pair of eyes tracked them as Harry led her down several flights of stairs to a somewhat musty basement that he proudly declared to be his office.

The equipment for the most part didn't interest her but she was drawn to various printouts pinned to the wall. Photocopies of different board configurations were covered with scribblings in an unfamiliar notation and she eventually turned to the excited looking Beltik. The man was practically bouncing with such barely restrained glee that all it took was an arched brow on her part before he launched into the details of his project. The man was teaching a computer how to play chess. Or at least trying to. 

  
  
  


"Well, what do you think?" he eventually asked in nervous anticipation. Beth sat back, arms crossed and stared at the glowing screen.

"I've played better games against six year olds," she muttered, unimpressed. It was the fifth game she'd played at Harry's request and she doubted she'd be able to sit through another. "Does it have to be so _slow_ ? I mean, losing is fine- it's a machine. It'll never be able to _really_ play, but the fact it takes so long is-" she cut herself off, glancing over at her friend and catching the look on his face. "I mean..." It was hard to find something kind to say, though she did struggle for a moment. "It's nice that it records all the moves for me," she eventually offered with a weak smile.

"I think the interface and display are a real improvement on what's currently available," Adele put in, offering Harry an encouraging smile. The woman- who Beth couldn’t help but noticed was also a redhead- had joined them midway through the second game, her office apparently in the same building. "Have you heard of the ARPANET work being done, Elisabeth?" Beth smiled tightly and shook her head. "It's really exciting- there's already a number of universities connected in this big network of machines." There was an excited note in the woman's voice and Beth braced herself for the familiar onslaught of an enthusiast going into detail of a beloved subject. "You know, it won't be long before we can play chess games in real time with people across the country!" 

Beth made a polite sound in response and refrained from pointing out she and Benny already did that, playing a game via phone about every other week. Harry tried to turn the conversation back to the 'artificial intelligence' in his work and the two grad students digressed into a technical conversation Beth could not follow.

It took a while, the three of them having already gathered up their belongings and walked to the car, before the conversation came back around to include her. "Botvinnik has been working with the Russian universities on their program," Harry said in response to some point made by Adele and Beth's attention focused on the familiar name. She expressed surprise at that and Harry sheepishly added "Not that it helps them much, but it's brought an air of credibility to their work."

"I heard he retired recently," Beth said, ceeding the front seat to Adele and sliding into the back of the car.

"Just because he stopped playing in the tournaments doesn't mean he stopped playing," Harry chided her, glancing at her in the rear view mirror. Beth hummed wordlessly at that, trying to imagine a life without skilled opponents to constantly test her skills against. The idea of only playing against a stupid machine for the rest of her life filled her with a bleak sense of dread.

### ♖♕♖

When she returned to the hotel the next day, she walked straight up to the desk and had them ring Borgov. There was a tension in her as she stood waiting for him, the various hotel lobbies they'd crossed paths in flicking through her memory now that Beltik wasn't there to distract her. Moscow, Paris, Budapest, Bueno Aires, Amsterdam... Their rooms had been on the same floor in Amsterdam she recalled. There'd been a long silent elevator ride followed by a wordless stroll down the hallway that had been innocent enough but remained etched in her memory. It was the night before their match and they'd only exchanged a nod before he continued past her room to his own several doors down and yet it'd kept her awake for quite some time. Of course, without her _sleep aids_ many things could keep her awake at night- none of which were as helpful as thinking about the game.

Attention fixed on the elevator, she saw the bodyguard exit first this time before Borgov emerged- eyes again immediately finding hers. They exchanged nods in greeting before he tipped his head to the elevator and she joined him. Standing in silence beside him without his usual pair of towering KGB handlers felt nearly scandalous and she ducked her head, lips pressing together to suppress a smile. That he should be such a stranger and yet so familiar left her with a faint buzz, a competing push and pull of intentions. Peeking up, she found he was watching her though he immediately looked away. The walls of the small space were mirrored however and her gaze slid forward to catch his in reflection.

No small talk interrupted their ascent and it was only the sliding open of the doors that broke their stare. It was immediately obvious from the hallway that his accommodations were far nicer than what she was used to and yet she still marvelled when the door to his suite opened.

" _They want to make a point of how nice the West is,_ " he explained with a hint of bitterness as she trailed a finger along the back of a plush velvet sofa. " _At least as long as the press is watching_." There was a small movement and Beth turned, catching sight of a dark haired boy the moment before he retreated to a back room. The door pulled shut with a click but not before she caught sight of the gloomy expression upon the young man's face. "Alexei," Borgov explained, dismissing the bodyguard with a wave of his hand. "My son. He is..." there was an uneasy glance towards her as he hesitated too long before settling on, "shy. Please," he continued in a lighter tone, gesturing to a table in the larger center room. A board had already been assembled, the chairs pulled out and waiting. Beth hesitated for a moment, surprised to see the bodyguard step out to presumably take up a position in the hallway.

Sensing her distress, Borgov glanced to the door and then back at her. " _Smith can... sit inside if you want_?" he offered though the idea clearly displeased him.

" _Oh, no.. no... I always prefer to play without an audience_ ," Beth demurred, approaching the man as he picked up two pieces and shuffled them behind his back. Presenting his clenched fists, she hesitated a moment before pointing to his right hand and accepting the black pawn contained within. Rolling the piece between her fingers, she glanced once more at the front door and then the one his son had disappeared behind.

" _The watching, it grows tiresome_ ," he explained, sitting down at the board. " _We were promised... more freedom here._ " Pressing his lips into a thin line, the man's expression was dark as he paused for a moment, looking at the board.

" _Is that why you- you defected?_ " Beth asked carefully, settling lightly into her own chair. She may not have prepared exactly for her encounter with Borgov but she did at least study up on some vocabulary she thought might come up. 'Dezertiroval' was the right word she thought though there had been others that might have been more applicable and she watched him closely to see if the quality of her Russian offended him.

Only after she asked the question and the man had stilled, hand hovering above his queen, did she recall how evasive he was on the subject in the interviews she'd read and watched. Sliding a hand up her throat, she waited, as the flush creeping up her neck warmed her fingers. Words, like moves in chess, could not be taken back- only regretted. 

Lowering his hands to his lap, Borgov glanced up at her from beneath dark brows and Beth was certain he was going to ask her to leave. " _My son, he is sick_ ," the man explained and Beth's eyebrows shot up. " _The doctors back home- the doctors of the Soviet Union_ ," he corrected himself, " _could not help, but the Americans promised... everyone knows the doctors here are better_."

" _Is- is that why you're in Chicago?_ " she asked and he nodded sharply. Her gaze again slid to study the door the child had disappeared behind. 

" _Let us play chess_ ," Borgov said, drawing her attention back to the board and she nodded in agreement, squirming briefly in her seat as she swallowed the many other questions she had. 

In no time the looming threat of small talk receded, silence again filling the room as the only conversation that need happen played out wordlessly on the board. The tricky subject of family members, lost or injured, was replaced by a brutal slaughter of his pawns to which he responded by taking a knight she'd not been prepared to lose just then. The world with its politics and press receded as her focus narrowed down to just those sixty four squares before her. The squares, the pieces, and the man sitting across from her. 

Borgov was no easier to read now than any previous game. The hints of familiarity, of humor or hurt that had slipped out earlier were gone now. Neither spoke and the question of language, the barrier of conveying complex thoughts, was not surrounded but rather simply skirted. There was something different though, this time. This time, it was just them.

While she'd played hundreds of games with Beltik in the privacy of her home and thousands in the company of Watts in that cramped basement apartment of his, it felt foreign sitting across from Borgov without a ring of spectators. They didn't matter, they didn't factor into the board or the pieces, but it changed how she saw the man. There was no performance, no weight to the moves beyond just personal pride. The formality of the play stripped away should not impact the game and yet it did. It laid bare how beautiful chess could be.

When she sat back, waiting for his move as he studied the board, there was a freedom to study him. To watch and not be watched in turn. That was, of course, until he made his move. The glances they exchanged as he'd raise his head and she'd lowered hers were level. Cool. The idea to smile did occur to her- this was supposed to be a friendly match- but she didn't know when, didn't quite know how.

When the attack came, it wasn't on the board. Beth had been so intently studying her possible moves that she'd not seen the child approach. By the cry of surprise from Borgov, neither had he. The boy didn't simply upset the board but in fact caught the edge of the mat and flung it across the room. Pieces went flying and before they'd settled Alexei had turned and fled. The child disappeared into the other room while Beth sat frozen by the violence of his behavior and the force at which the door slammed shut behind him. A toppled bishop rolled out in a lazy arc before dropping off the edge of the table in a final delayed clatter. The look on Borgov's face caused the breath to catch in her throat- absent was any rage or wrath or disappointment that such an outburst might incur. Instead the man looked stricken, his dark eyes pools of sorrow as he raised an hand.

" _Please... a moment_ ," he begged, as he pushed himself out of his chair and moved to follow his son. Leaning down, Beth picked up one of the pieces and fidgeted with it, trying not to eavesdrop on the softly spoken Russian coming from where Borgov pressed against the door, apparently finding it locked. She should leave, she knew that without question. But he'd asked her to stay... and more importantly, she ached to know how their game would have played out. 

She hadn't lost yet, but the uneasy knowledge that it was headed in that direction gripped her. Cautiously, feeling guilty for doing so, Beth reassembled the board and studied it as she waited for his return. There was an urge to cover her ears- it felt wrong to hear him plead with his son to open the door- but Beth simply furrowed her brow in concentration and applied all of her focus to the puzzle before her. She was truthfully surprised then when she glanced up a while later to find him standing by her side, having not noticed his return.

He was just as focused on the board as she had been, studying it but not taking his seat across from her yet. Beth licked her lips but before she could say anything he reached out and very carefully, very deliberately rotated the mat. Turning the game around, the black pieces he'd granted her at the start now presumably his while the fascinating net he'd begun to construct was hers to complete. Beth bit her lip and hungrily studied the board from her newly granted perspective. Rather than sit down across from her, Borgov moved passed her to the other side of the room.

The sound of clinking glassware raised the hair on the back of Beth's neck. Her throat closed up at the familiar liquid slosh of a drink being made. Rather than decline, to explain she didn't drink any more, Beth silently accepted the glass the man handed her when he returned. Holding hers timidly in both hands, she watched as he collapsed back into his chair and raised his own. He took only a brief sip and she relaxed a fraction. She kept the drink well away from her own lips, but continued to cradle it as she watched the man. 

" _My wife_ ," he stated, his Russian thick with emotion. " _Do you know what she said that morning?_ " Carefully Beth shook her head, far less certain of any move she made now that they seemed to have abandoned the board. " _'Sometimes you must sacrifice a queen to promote a pawn.'_ " Stomach flipping, Beth took a desperate gulp of her drink before swallowing thickly. 

" _She could not play, but she always loved chess analogies... Language was her game_ ," he muttered and took another sip. Blinking rapidly, Beth tried to think of a response. Something more nuanced than simply 'I'm sorry' would have been nice but her mind was blanker than the Capablanca versus Tartakower endgame. Before she could say something stupid however Borgov continued.

" _Do you love anything more than chess, Ms Harmon?_ "

" _I-_ " she hesitated, thinking upon her friends and family. " _I don't know_ ," she admitted weakly, leaning back from the board.

" _Hope that you never do_ ," he replied darkly. " _It is a terrible feeling_." 

Her confusion mounting, she was on the verge of excusing herself when her attention snapped back to the game as the man made a move. Her move- the one at least she'd been seriously contemplating before Alexei's interjection. Unable to help herself, she leaned in. Setting the unwanted drink down, she rest her chin on her fists.

He was studying her, she glanced up twice to find him watching her but he would simply nurse his drink in silence and drop his gaze to the board rather than meet her eye for an extended period. They made a handful of moves before he spoke again. While she'd not touched her drink, his was already empty by that point. " _There's no winning_ ," he said and it took her a moment to realize he was continuing his earlier thought rather than commenting on the game which she was now most certainly winning, thanks to his earlier positioning. " _in life. Nowhere else is anything as clean as it is on the board._ "

" _Thank goodness for chess then_ ," Beth replied, earning herself a dry laugh from the man. When he was not engaged in analyzing the game, he had a rather expressive face. Her eyes tracked him as he stood up again and moved to the minibar behind her. The sweating glass next to the board called to her and she tucked her hands under her thighs to avoid reaching for it. She should definitely go.

" _But the games end._ " He kept his back to her as he fixed his drink and continued to speak. " _An adjournment can only prolong it for so long. Good, bad, win, lose, the game eventually ends. And life goes on_ ." Head snapping up, Beth watched as the man raised his glass and this time took more than sip. The dread his words stirred in her doubled as he added, " _For some_."

Glancing at the board Beth thought rapidly. Grief was not a foreign concept to her, but she'd only ever grappled with her own. She grabbed the drink now and took a hasty gulp. She didn't need it for the game but when she'd talked to Jolene about her drinking the woman had explained how some folks drank to see their own next moves in life. Certain as she was of her next two moves on the board, she had no idea what to say to the man. It was unclear to her whether he wanted to even talk about his wife or not. When Alma had passed she'd waited three days before mentioning it to Harry- the hotel had done well at keeping it from the press.

" _Playing helps though, doesn't it_ ?" Beth eventually asked after they'd made several more moves. " _It does for me at least._ " 

" _Indeed. A game solves many things..._ " He maneuvered a knight which she promptly took and he sighed. " _Though this one appears to have come to its end._ " Reaching forward he carefully rested the white king on its side. " _Would... You have time for another?_ "

" _Of course_ ," she hastily answered, rapidly reassembling the black pieces before her. She didn't know how to help a grieving widower but she could at least play chess. And as uneasy as she felt, the relief that flickered across Borgov's face at her quick acceptance was noticeable. He excused himself to try the door Alexei had hidden himself behind but it remained locked.

" _The lobby could send up a key_ ," she offered weakly but the man just shook his head as he returned to the table. 

" _He has done this every night so far,_ " Borgov explained as he set about re-assembling his own pieces. " _Locking himself in his room, not-_ " he paused and cleared his throat. " _This is the first game I've played since-_ " The silence hung for a moment and Beth contemplated just making the first move, opening the game in an effort to side-step the conversation.

" _Is he angry that I'm here_ ?" she asked carefully, reflecting on the unhappy look she'd seen on the boy's face. " _Or that you're playing?_ " 

" _He's upset his mother is gone._ " Pausing the take another swallow, Borgov seemed to grow more sorrowful but leaned into the topic. " _Of course he blames me, this is reasonable. I am the reason we went to Paris, the reason the Americans would go to such... efforts to 'help' us_."

Licking her lips, Beth looked back down at the board and kept her gaze fixed on the piece she planned to open with. " _Do you blame yourself_?" 

" _No_ ." The tension gripping her ebbed slightly at that- that level of guilt would have been more than she could bear. " _I am grieving, yes, but... handling it. It was always a risk, a possible outcome. We are chess players, Ms Harmon. We know how to assess outcomes_." Beth blinked at that, surprised to be included in his presumed set of those who thought things through. She was rather certain her ability to strategize did not extend beyond the bounds of the board. 

" _But Alexei_ ," Borgov continued. " _He's struggling with this- he didn't have the time to anticipate it- we never told him in advance. He's just a child. All he knows is that one morning his mother and father pulled him into a car and... now he is very far from home without her. And he'll never have either back._

" _I've of course tried to explain it to him since_ ." Shrugging, the man gestured for her to begin the game though he continued to speak. " _But he's too young to learn that sometimes things just... happen. And no planning or preparing can improve the outcome. Life is not chess_."

" _Unfortunately not_ ," she echoed, nodding her head. Though she detested mixing chess with conversation, Beth pushed the pawn she'd been planning on before carefully offering " _I could... talk to him if you want_ ." He arched an eyebrow. " _I lost my mother as well_ ," she explained. " _Around his age in fact_."

" _Yes, the orphan.._ ." he said, expression hard to read as he moved. " _An often repeated fact of your story._ "

" _Yes_ ," Beth echoed, displeased by the dismissive tone in his voice and moved her knight out. The piece clacked down onto the board with perhaps more force than she intended. " _My mother died in front of me as well though. Killed herself in a car accident. Almost killed me as well_ ," she muttered, crossing her arms and looking away. He wasn't the only one who had held back details from the press. It was a fact she'd only confessed to Jolene, shared during one of her more pitiful relapses into drinking. Unable to stop herself, she snatched up her glass for another quick swallow. She felt reckless just then, realizing she'd shared with him one of her deepest secrets.

There was a long pause before he intoned solemnly, " _I see. Quite similar situations... I..._ " he hesitated, moving another piece to which she aggressively responded to right away. They made several more rapid moves which culminated in her claiming a bishop. Leaning back he studied the board intently. " _I appreciate the offer,_ " he admitted, " _and.. would like to accept it._ " Her look of surprise was noticed before she could hide her shock and he offered her a lopsided grin. 

" _Alexei has no one he can talk to. Not just about his mother but his English..._ ." Borgov waved a hand. " _I was negligent- it was overlooked. Anna was the one who knew English, but she-_ " Borgov stopped abruptly and seemed to turn his attention to the board. _"We are going to the zoo tomorrow_ ," he eventually continued with after deciding on his move. " _Perhaps you could join us?_ " 

Beth ducked her head as a warmth spread through her. She couldn't attribute it entirely to the familiar feeling of alcohol, though that certainly contributed. The same restraint within her that had told her to leave also warned her not to take another sip. " _Of course_ ," she said and raised the glass to lips curved slightly in a shy smile. It'd been wrong about the leaving, how could she trust it just then about the drink in her hand?

  
  
  


It's late. She's drunk. They're four games in, maybe five. It's hard to count with how he keeps pausing to switch it up, proposing hypotheticals that they talk through for so long it's hard to feel like the move she eventually makes is her own. It's like a dance on the board, she thinks, as everything spins.

"I should go," she says, repeating herself when she realizes she'd spoken in English. Pushing herself up from the table, she wobbled slightly on her feet. It's unsurprising that once she started she'd gone too far. Raising a hand, she rubbed at her face sleepily as Borgov agreed with her, steady as he rose to his full, towering height over her. Beth tipped her head back and smiled crookedly at him. While she was used to overindulging she could not recall someone being able to match her. She was used to drinking her companions under the table, but then again she'd never gotten drunk with a Russian before.

" _I am very happy to have played with you_ ," she confided, reaching out to pat the man's chest affectionately. " _I was worried that..._ " she bit her lip and rocked on her heels as she thought better of voicing the thought.

" _Will you be able to get home_?" he asked carefully, plucking the glass from her hand that she didn't realize she still held.

" _The lobby_ ," she swayed dangerously, drifting over to the couch she'd left her coat and purse on. Pausing, she looked about the room carefully. Sunglasses, she recalled. She had brought sunglasses, she was certain of it. " _They can call me a taxi..._." 

Thinking she'd perhaps left them on the minibar she took two stumbling steps in that general direction before she tripped. Of course he caught her. That he'd had more to drink than she was not evident in his quick movements, hands coming to grip her shoulders and steady her as she sagged heavily against his chest. It was nice, warm, broad. Beth inhaled sharply as she felt the fingers on her arms dig in. Looking up she found him staring down at her with an intensity that she'd only seen during those pivotal moments on the board when everything hung in the balance of a single play.

" _Did your government send you_ ?" he asked, breathing heavily. It seemed impossible, but he drew her closer to him somehow and she could feel the rapid rising and falling of his chest against her own. " _Another gift- another _reward_ for being a good defector_?"

Stunned by this accusation, Beth could do nothing but blink rapidly and hang there in the man's grasp. Fleetingly she recalled Benny's prediction for carrying a knife though the idea of a blade in her hands right then was impossible to imagine. Borgov's gaze slid lower, settling it seemed on her throat and the ridiculous question of whether _he_ had one skipped across her thoughts.

"No, I-" her tongue twisted and only English tumbled from her in a panic. "I came to visit. On my own. I was-" He gave her a sharp sudden shake then, dark brows drawing close as he glared at her.

" _The papers are not allowed to report where I’m staying,_ " he hissed in Russian, " _How did you happen to run into me in the lobby_ ?" he licked his lips, eyes still most certainly fixed on her neck. " _You Americans and your 'coincidences'... I find it hard to believe an entire nation so blessed with_ **_luck_ **."

It suddenly occurred to her that she could scream, if needed. The agent was just beyond the door. She could scream and they'd come in and she'd be freed from his grip without question. Beth shook her head, still struggling to understand this sudden change in the man. Raising a hand between them, she pressed against his chest.

" _I'll not fall for such things again,_ " he breathed, shoving her away. " _No matter how tempting the bait_."

“ _I'm- I'm not_ **_bait_ ** ," she snapped, adjusting her blouse after taking several stumbling steps away. " _You're... you're drunk, Borgov._ "

" _Something you're quite familiar with_ ," the man muttered, turning away. Beth's eyes widened, stunned at the remark which hurt more than the grip on her arm had. Abandoning her glasses, she grabbed her coat and purse and fled the hotel room.

### ♖♕♖

"You taking off today, Beth?" Harry called from behind the kitchen counter as she wandered bleary eyed into the kitchen. Running her fingers through a wicked case of bedhead, she mutely watched him wisk something in a mixing bowl. Adele set down the newspaper she'd been perusing and moved to fetch Beth a steaming cup of coffee.

"Yep," was her delayed response, offered after a desperate gulp from the mug. After two days she was eager to part ways with the very domestic pair of grad students but her plans for the afternoon beyond that were murky.

Borgov's invitation to the zoo was clear in her memory even if some of the later events of the evening were a bit hazier. She could recall their parting exchange perfectly however, the small set of bruises his grip had left on her upper arms an unnecessary reminder. The memory of Alexei's tragic situation haunted her and she dreaded a long drive home with only the unresolved tension between her and Borgov to keep her company. If she didn't see him again- soon- she feared she'd have done more harm than good this trip. 

"Got back late last night," Beltik said. It was more of a question than passed judgement but Beth still ducked her head. "You two, ah, have a lot to talk about?" Beth closed her eyes in embarrassment, well aware of what conclusions Beltik had likely jumped to, and was thankful that he said nothing about the intoxicated state she'd arrived in. 

"We played a couple games," she said, running her finger around the rim of the coffee cup. "He... had a lot on his mind. We talked." 

She was relieved to see Harry smile and nod when he heard this. "I'm happy to hear that, Beth. We all need a sympathetic ear sometimes... a shoulder to cry on- metaphorically," he quickly amended at her shocked expression. Borgov had been emotional, certainly, but tears had never been a threat. And as to her shoulder-

"How did the games go?" Harry asked, drawing her back to the present. 

"We... were interrupted," Beth admitted before apologizing that she didn't have any records to pass onto him. "His son... got angry and knocked over the board." Both Harry and Adele winced at this and Beth found herself relating more of the evening to them than she expected. "He said... some unkind things," she eventually confessed. "He got drunk- we both did." Harry nodded his head sympathetically and Beth realized it was a minor relief to be honest about her mistake with him. "It was... unpleasant."

"Oh I know," Harry laddled out batter onto the griddle he'd set up while he spoke. "You can get... quite vicious yourself when you're in such a state." Beth blanched, trying to recall what she'd said to him in some of her darker moments. "I'm sure he doesn't mean it. Grief... it's a complicated thing."

"Yeah," Beth muttered in agreement, dwelling on the encounter. She didn't mention the accusation at the very end. _Bait_. Borgov had clearly been a lot more drunk than she'd suspected.

The conversation drifted to lighter topics after that, Harry producing a beautiful stack of pancakes that they quickly demolished. As Beth neatly cut the last wedge on her plate into bite-sized pieces she noticed Harry fidgeting with a napkin. 

"Some," he cleared his throat, clearly working up the nerve to ask something. "Some of us are thinking about having a computer chess tournament." Beth snorted in amusement at the idea as she took a bite and he hurried on. "I- I was wondering if maybe you'd be interested- able," he corrected, glancing at Adele who seemed to be nodding along as he spoke. "If you'd be able to to come by and play the winner. As a sort of... prize."

Beth laughed and it was on the tip of her tongue to dismiss the idea- she'd played enough computer chess the other night for a lifetime- but there was a tension to the pair that caused her to pause. 

"It'd really help," Adele explained, sensing her hesitation. "A big name like yours could improve turnout. Maybe pick up some more sponsors." She shrugged at the surprised look Beth gave her at that. "Programming challenges are a way to attract interest into bleeding edge research. Harry has been writing to some of the folks at IBM trying to get grant money," she added proudly and the man ducked his head with a nervous laugh. 

"Yeah, sure," Beth quickly conceded. "Do you want me to play the program or the programmers?" she asked before waving a hand as she finished her plate. "I'll play them both. Just send me the info and I'll be there," she paused before adding, "assuming there's no other tournaments or anything..."

"Of course!" Harry assured her, seemingly quite pleased with this outcome. 

When Beth moved to the living room, she began the process of leaving- thanking them for their hospitality as she gathered her stuff up. Beltik mentioned a book he wanted her to read before disappearing to retrieve it. The moment he was gone, Adele turned to Beth and gave her a hard look.

"You left a mark on him," Adele announced.

"What?" Beth asked, slowly turning to the woman, eyes wide.

"He bruises easily you know." Blinking rapidly Beth tried to decide if the statement was literal or metaphorical. She recalled gripping Beltik's arm the other day and her own bruises throbbed in accusation. "You've got to be gentle with a guy like Harry," the woman said and Beth slowly nodded. Metaphorical then- they were having That conversation. 

"I know..." she said carefully, desperately _willing_ Harry to come back as soon as possible. "It's easy to forget sometimes... so it's good he has someone who remembers." Adele opened her mouth but Harry returned just then. He handed Beth a book on algorithms and she thanked him profusely, happy to back out of the house in a hurry, waving and then turning to flee.

Dealing with Borgov and his traumatized son suddenly seemed far more appealing than spending a moment longer in that house.

  
  
  
  


They had only exchanged a time for the meeting and Beth didn't know if it'd referred to the hotel lobby or the zoo. In fact, she wasn't certain he'd still go or would even want to see her if he did. Not wanting the next time she saw him to be over a tournament board had Beth arriving fifteen minutes early at the zoo.

There were a number of benches near the entrance and she settled herself there to lay in wait. Again, she aimed to ambush the man. Shaking her head, feeling foolish, Beth pulled out the book Harry had given her. It didn't take long for a crease to form between her brows, confused as to why the man thought she’d want to read it. There was absolutely no reference to chess on any of the pages.

It was thankfully only ten minutes after the agreed upon meeting time when father, son, and bodyguard arrived. The fact Alexei’s arm still hung in a sling helped make them hard to miss but Beth had found she was always able to pick Borgov out of a crowd. The man did a double take upon seeing her and she chose to smile brightly at Alexei rather than look at his father as she approached.

" _Hello_ ," she said in Russian, exchanging not particularly friendly nods with the pair's bodyguard. Borgov hastily introduced her to Alexei and none of them acknowledged the disrupted game from yesterday. The boy looked sullen, hanging back behind his father as he eyed Beth with great skepticism.

" _Your father asked me to help you_ ," she explained, smile fixed in place while Borgov's eyes widened in what might have been panic. " _I can read to you any sign you want. He says you are very smart and enjoy learning about animals_ . " The man visibly relaxed at this and then offered a weak smile in thanks. " _Why don't you find an animal you want to know more about?_ " she encouraged.

Alexei hesitated, glancing up at his father who nodded. There was a well timed roar from the lion cages just then and the boy began walking in that direction as if pulled by siren song. Borgov fell into step next to Beth as they followed him, the bodyguard trailing several steps behind them.

" _I am...surprised to see you_ ," he acknowledged. " _After last night... I apologize. There was-_ "

" _As you said_ ," she interrupted, " _it's something I'm quite familiar with._ " The man winced and Beth moved on, secretly pleased that the one jab she'd allowed herself had landed. " _You asked me to talk to him_ ," she explained, nodding with her chin to the boy who's step was increasing in speed the closer they got to the cages. " _I- I try these days to help where I can_ ." She shrugged and wanted to add 'especially for friends' but couldn't quite bring herself to call them that just then. _Bait._

They arrived in time to witness the lion feeding, only Alexei pushing through the crowd to press against the glass with the other kids. There was no language barrier separating him from the young crowd that gapped in awe at the sight. While several squealed in fright at the bloody chunks tossed to the beasts, a pair actually bursting out in tears at the sight, Alexei displayed an unsettling blankness as he watched intently. The boy lingered long after most the crowd had wandered off and Beth approached cautiously.

" _You don't seem very scared of them_ ," she observed.

" _Animals aren't scary,_ " the boy replied, turning to give her a flat look. " _only people are_." Mouth dry, Beth could only nod in silent agreement at that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well... that went... somewhere. There's about 2-3 more chapters of this but who knows if it'll actually get written
> 
> If you made it through all that, I'd love to recommend the charmingly bizarre 2013 film Computer Chess if you've not seen it already.
> 
> had hoped to post this on the 23rd as a 1-month since release celebration... Alas, missed it by a couple hours. (🤦♀️also realized I called Adele 'Alice' in the first chapter at one point...)

**Author's Note:**

> I shouldn't be writing this. I've another story, another fandom I'm in the midst of nurturing and yet... this thought would _not_ leave me alone... no promises on how far this will go. Posting to clear the mind...


End file.
